


The Princess' Prize

by theLoyalRoyalGuard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, shower fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLoyalRoyalGuard/pseuds/theLoyalRoyalGuard
Summary: What happens in the morning after the bounty hunter and the princess spend the night together.





	The Princess' Prize

It was truly a shame it hadn’t occurred to Boba to have a security cam in the shower. Not that he’d ever thought he’d have a need for one. Who was going to ambush him from there? 

Except now, there was someone he very much wished would ambush him. 

Though there was no one to see him, and certainly no one to hear his thoughts, he cleared his throat awkwardly and attempted to think about something else. The latest job he was considering, for example. Or the small repair he needed to make on _Slave I_ ’s hull. Or…

Anything other than Leia Organa naked in his shower, warm water washing over the soft skin he’d touched just last night…

Fierfek. She was humming. Humming! Who hummed in the shower? And how was he supposed to concentrate in these conditions?

It really was a shame he didn’t have a cam in there. He really would have liked to watch, if he wasn’t going to be able to do anything else while she was in there. He could certainly imagine, but he had no illusions about the strength of his imagination. It certainly did not compare to the real thing.

What he really needed was an excuse to go in himself, but he could not think of one. Ironic, and yet fitting, that this was the one time his efficiency and the rigid order of his life worked against him. He hadn’t misplaced anything, he hadn’t missed any part of his routine, he had no reason to go in there except to ogle a very beautiful woman. Which, unfortunately, was not a reason he felt he could give without blushing, which he simply refused to do in her view.

Yes, it was exactly like her to stride into his simple, orderly life, take the whole thing by storm, and hum an Alderaanian tavern song while doing it. 

The humming broke off. Its absence felt weirdly profound, and he immediately wanted it back. The rush of water hadn’t stopped, so she wasn’t done. He hadn’t heard her fall, or even drop anything…

“Boba?”

The sound of his name shocked him out of his revery. Not many people ever used it, and certainly not in that tone. 

“Would you mind bringing me--” He was at the door, his finger on the button, without waiting to hear what she wanted him to bring her. The panel slid silently back into the wall, and there she was, in his tiny shower behind the transparent plastech curtain that did absolutely nothing to hide her.

“--a towel?” she finished, looking at him in surprise where he stood framed in the open door. They just stared at each other for a moment. She folded her arms across her chest, concealing the primary distraction. “That was very prompt. Except you’re missing something.”

“Right. A towel.”

He backed out again, to fetch a spare towel from storage. Well, the spare towel. He only bothered to own two. The spare one had a faded patch on the plain blue where he’d had to wash blood out of it, but it was clean and that what counted. 

“Slightly less prompt,” she teased him, when he returned. When he came close to the curtain to hand it to her, she stuck her head and shoulders out. Warm steam puffed over him. Her smooth, pale skin was flushed rosy pink; she bathed very hot.

“You’re using up all my hot water,” he grumbled. But instead of taking the towel, her hand closed on his wrist, yanking him forward into her own personal sweet-smelling cloud. He had just enough time to realize she must have brought her own soap to smell like that, and then her lips were pressed against his. A fleeting, glorious contact that sent a surge of longing through his whole body.

Then she shut off the water and snatched the towel from his unresisting hand.

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping it around her middle as she began to dry off. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?” A smile tugged the corners of her mouth he’d very much like to kiss again. She was so petit, his towel practically swallowed her up, showing only a creamy flash of thigh, her strong, slender arms, as she moved. More than enough to entrance him. They had, after all, so little time together. It would be a waste not to make the most of every moment. And Boba hated waste.

“Yes.”

Now she was definitely smiling, absolutely amused at his expense.

“Why just watch… when you could be making yourself useful and helping?”

“You do… like when I’m useful,” he agreed, considering her offer. As if he really needed to consider it. She made up his mind for him when she let the towel slide down to her hips, only to then turn her back on him.

A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. 

“Would you dry my hair, please?” she asked, so pertly he knew she was still amused at him. Fine, let her be amused. He stepped barefoot into the shower behind her, so she was caught between his body and the wall. She must have realized that, because a little shiver passed through her. 

He took the towel and gathered up the dark tumble of her long hair - so silky when dry, so heavy soaked like this - and wrung it out between his hands. It wasn’t a particularly tender way of doing it, but it was efficient. It worked. That was what mattered.

She leaned back against his chest, leaving a damp patch soaking into his shirt. 

“You’re getting me damp,” he pointed out.

“Oh no. You poor thing,” she said. “Here, let me fix that.”

Before he could stop her, her hand shot out and she turned on the water.

He recoiled like a Zerkaanian sand cat, but it was already too late. Hot water flooded down one side of his chest and now his hair was wet, too. So was the towel, which had slithered down to the floor. “Why, you…” His voice dropped to a threatening rumble, but far from looking threatened, Leia looked like she was holding back laughter. Choosing to cut his losses in the name of vengeance, he stripped off his shirt and stepped back into the shower. There was very little space for both of them, as it always felt a bit crowded with himself alone. He pulled her back against his chest and she tilted her head, offering the soft arch of her neck to kiss. 

He did.

He did a lot more.

“Tell me I win,” she said when they were finished. The heat of the shower was nothing to the way she made him feel. 

“It wasn’t a competition. And you got my spare towel all wet.”

She nudged the sodden towel away from the drain with her toe. “With you, isn’t it always a competition?” 

He grunted, neither affirming nor denying her accusation. She turned in his arms to lean against him, nestled safely against his chest, her head resting just above his heart. It amazed him how someone could be so delicate and yet so strong. A force of raw nature in his arms, a storm wrapped in silk. 

He had so little time with her, and would have less soon. That was the price they paid for being what they were, and paid it gladly, to have these precious moments. 

“Stay again tonight,” he offered.

“Is that my prize for winning?” Her fingers trailed over his ribs, tracing an old scar there. “Tell me I won.” 

“Oh, very well, princess. You won. This is your prize.”


End file.
